


In Which Howard has a Type and Everyone Knows it But Him

by Culumacilinte



Series: Tumblr Ficlets [5]
Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Gen, Jealous Vince, Oblivious Howard, One Shot, POV Third Person Limited, Season/Series 01, so deep in the closet he doesn't even know he's there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 19:44:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14339631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Culumacilinte/pseuds/Culumacilinte
Summary: It’s got nothing to do with being stupid, no sir! It’s not not stupidity, he’s got one of the great minds of his age, it’s just that it sometimes takes him a little longer than some other people to arrive at a conclusion.





	In Which Howard has a Type and Everyone Knows it But Him

Howard knows, truthfully, though he’ll protest it til he’s gone blue, that he is a little bit mentally slow. It’s got nothing to do with being stupid, no sir! It’s not not stupidity, he’s got one of the great minds of his age, it’s just that it sometimes takes him a little longer than some other people to arrive at a conclusion. He needs that time to mull, to let all the pieces slot themselves together in his brain, that’s all. And he’ll admit (very quietly, to himself) that sometimes that is embarrassing, or frustrating, even sometimes humiliating, but he maintains that it is merely the sign of a uniquely great brain.

So it’s a little while after Bainbridge shows up at the zoo, and a little while yet after the incident with Tommy, and the  _other_  incident with Simon McFarnaby, and then a subsequent incident during which Howard had considered quitting the zoo to go play backup second trumpet for ‘Hot Titties’ Cricket Dawson and his travelling jazz band, that a thought suddenly drops into his head, fully formed. If thoughts could sparkle, this one would; it’s like it’s come accompanied by a sunrise chorale.

_Oh_ , he thinks, and then, before he has a chance to think anything else, 'Wait a minute. Are you  _jealous_?’

Vince looks up from where he’s dicing up fruit for the lizards, blank and confused. 'Wot? Jealous of you?’ His whole face furrows. 'Nah, you can keep making up the schedules, it ain’t that sweet a job.’

'No, nononono’, Howard brushes the dig away, determined to stick to the subject while the thought is still shiny and new and making perfect sense in his head. 'I mean,  _were_  you jealous? Of Bainbridge, and Tommy, and Simon McFarnaby, and Cricket– you  _were_ , weren’t you!’

'No!’ Vince says it immediately, and even laughs derisively while he does, but he’s gone pink, and his mouth is doing a weird twitching thing at one corner. 'Pfff, why would I be jealous of all your smelly old friends? They’re all dicks. It’s a new one every week to drool over with you, and they’re all freakshows or dicks. And Simon McFarnaby dumped you, anyway, remember?’

Technically, he’d dumped Vince too; Vince had gone to a couple rehearsals for Autumn Magnets, before Simon had decided that it would be more interesting and avant-garde to cast an actress as Julian, which Howard knows had stung. But he shakes his head, too caught up in the thought. Suddenly, with context, it seems  _obvious_  what Vince is doing, trying to brush him off because he’s hit too close to home.

'Nuh-uh, little man, don’t you try your clever tricks with me. You were! You were jealous because–’ he grasps for the right explanation, the thing that makes sense, ’– because I was, I was paying attention to them and not you? Or because I was admiring them for… things that you can’t do or don’t care about, and so you felt inadequate, or–’ He shoots a look at Vince, trying to gauge whether any of this is landing, and finds Vince looking still pink and a little shifty, but also exasperated. He can feel his metaphorical feet slipping, feel that moment of clarity folding in on itself in embarrassment.

'Howard–’

'Admit it, I’m right, aren’t I! You were jealous! Howard Moon is an expert in the workings of the mind, sir, the psychology of the individual, you can’t hide from me–’

'Howard, you titbox, d'you not even realise you had a great honking crush on all of them???’ He chucks a cube of mango at Howard, scowling. 'Y'might as well have been writing their names in your diary with hearts and stars all around! That’s not  _admiration_ , that’s you gagging for a bumming off whichever impressive ~action man~ you can find this week!’ He hauls himself up out of his seat, and for a moment, Howard’s whole body tenses with anticipation, sure that… something, he doesn’t know what, is going to happen.

But Vince just sighs and rolls his eyes and picks up the bucket of fruit, letting it swing from his hooked fingers. 'Expert in the workings of the mind my arse. I’m gonna go feed the lizards, I’ll see you in a bit.’

And just like that, he lopes out, leaving Howard frozen in genuine confusion. Is that what that had been? Vince had teased him about Tommy, of course, but that was just Vince taking the piss, trying to get a rise out of Howard. Nothing had ever  _happened_ with Tommy; Howard had been a teenager, that would have been wildly inappropriate, but had he wanted something to happen and hadn’t realised it? He allows his mind, very briefly and carefully, to wander deliberately towards thoughts of Bainbridge or 'Hot Titties’ Cricket in that vein, and flushes almost immediately. Oh. Shit. Well, that’s– apparently a thing. Fuck. And if Vince had picked up on that and was  _still_  jealous of them– it’s too late, the perfect epiphanic moment’s already passed, leaving Howard to struggle through the rubble of his thoughts, having to use a delicate brush to clean the dust off any promising corner before he can discern the true nature of the thing. He can’t quite get his brain to give him an answer what that might mean. Give himself a week to ponder, and he’ll arrive at the conclusion, and  _then_ he’ll blow Vince’s mind, yessir.

~~~~~~~~~

On the other side of the zoo, the lizards roll their eyes as Vince throws chopped fruit at them with unnecessary vigour. Of all the humans working the zoo, the shiny one is definitely usually the best company, and certainly the best conversation, but they don’t need to hear about all his not-relationship issues. It’s not even entertaining drama. 

‘We didn’t pay for a show with our meal’ Barry the collared lizard hisses, rearing up on his back legs.

‘Shut it, Barry!’ Vince shouts back, but he does at least calm down with the fruit-throwing.

 


End file.
